


Third Wheel

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Erotic Massage, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Polyamory, Smut, chapter three is, then chapter two is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Given FitzSimmons' closeness, Daisy feels like a third wheel, until she lets it out.-Mild angst/hurt/comfort. T for innuendo/sexual references.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt I got about 300000 years ago on Tumblr. I was craving the FSK polyamory tonight so here it is, at long last. It's not as long as I'd planned initially, but I hope you like it.
> 
> -
> 
> PS - I may consider a part two where FS uh...fulfil some promises. Let me know if anyone's interested.

“Jemma! We’re going to be late!”

Fitz shouted into the air over the sound of running water, but it wasn’t until some time – and some sounds that were definitely not running water – later, that the shower shut off at last. Fitz shook his head as he focused on his hands and his tie in the mirror. Behind him, Daisy and Jemma tumbled into the bedroom, grinning. 

“Thanks for gracing us with your presence,” Fitz deadpanned. 

“Hey, you can’t rush art,” Daisy replied, jutting out her chin with a glowing pride. Jemma gave a giddy grin as Daisy threw her bra over. 

“By the sounds of things I’m going to have to carry Jemma into work?” Fitz speculated, turning back to them now, and smirking at the sight of Jemma’s flushed cheeks. 

“Oh, please, no!” Jemma protested, “any more chivalrous acts and I’ll never be able to walk again.” 

“Shux, babe. You give me too much credit.” Daisy pulled her shirt over her head and stole a kiss. “Ugh, May’s gonna kill me. Worth it, though.” 

“You give _me_ too much credit,” Jemma preened. “But I’m afraid we must rush. We are quite late. I’ll get you back later, though.” 

Her eyes sparkled with the promise of mystery and mischievousness, but her flawless pinafore and the hair she was swiftly fixing wiped away all the wild looseness of a few minutes earlier. She looked beautiful, of course, and they were truly in a rush, but Daisy couldn’t help but feel her heart sink. It was as if she’d never touched her. And it wasn’t the first time this had happened, either. Busy schedules, of course, put a strain on everything – the fact that she didn’t work with them sure didn’t help – but more and more, it was nagging at her. Especially since neither of them seemed to notice. Was she just getting in her own head about it? Chasing herself in circles of doubt, reluctant to truly settle into anything that resembled home? Or was there more to it? 

“Come on!” Fitz beckoned Jemma into his arms and kissed her briefly before herding her out the door and shouting over his shoulder – “Have a good one, Daisy!” 

“You too!” Daisy shouted back, as the door – left loose – shut between them. Her fingers wandered up to her lips. She hadn’t been kissed, not just like that, not just for a smile, in so long. Busy schedules? 

Daisy shook her head. She was just as late as they were, and May was not a forgiving boss. She fastened her watch as she walked, head high, trying to convince herself to pray that May was not in the mood for burpees instead of fixate on every iota of intimacy she felt her body suddenly craving. She was just being needy – it happened sometimes, it had happened plenty of times when she hadn’t been in a relationship at all – and that wasn’t Fitz or Jemma’s fault. She’d get over it, or she’d have her turn. For now, there were…reps of something other than burpees, she hoped. 

-

The craving sensation passed and returned over the coming weeks and, much to her irritation, Daisy found that she was becoming more and more sensitive. Every glance FitzSimmons shared felt like an inside joke on which she was missing out. Every dance of movement felt interrupted by her own additions, her own preferences. Tea, coffee. New, classics. The air, the space, the blankets, their bodies, all became commodities in a tug-of-war Daisy never felt herself winning. She even found herself stepping out, making herself smaller, so as not to rock the boat. Trying to fit, just like she always had – just like she’d thought she wouldn’t have to, with them. _Acting._ Her every moment was a performance. And they didn’t even seem to notice. 

Sitting outside, on a bench looking over the green of the Mall, Daisy put her performance on again as she watched the two of them chatting and elbowing as they parted from the crowd pouring out of their conference. They looked so happy together, with each other, and that at least was something Daisy felt unequivocally good about – if only she could be sure of her place, sure she wasn’t in their way, sure she wasn’t a third wheel. 

“…oh and the _launch_ materials,” Jemma gushed. “I mean I’m not a techie obviously, but I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“To be able to simulate that must have taken a room full of brains the size of ours,” Fitz agreed. “It’s incredibly complex. And to have the simulation with _so_ many variables? Daisy – you should have seen this thing. It was amazing. We _have_ to get you a ticket next year. I’ll start buttering Coulson up now. What do you think he’d go for? Maybe some more upgrades…” 

Jemma smiled at Daisy and jerked her head in Fitz’s direction. 

“This one’s going to be building a space station out of an egg and colander in a minute. Watch out for him.”

She held out a disposable coffee cup labelled ‘hot choc’, and then took the one Fitz was holding (labelled ‘cap’), since he was distracted, and held that out too. 

“We brought you a little something. Wasn’t sure what you’d prefer, so we got both.” 

Daisy’s complicated feelings suddenly turned bitter, and drowned out the joy, the gratitude. 

“Thanks, but I’m not thirsty.” 

She pushed past Jemma, trying to resist the urge to act extra defensive by sticking her hands in her pockets, but the move was enough. 

“Are you sure? They’re fair trade, organic, everything’s recyclable….” 

Jemma trailed off. She touched Fitz’s arm and he noticed Daisy bolting, and shot after her. 

“Daisy! Daisy, no, come back, come on,” he pleaded. She planted her foot and turned around, and before she could check the accusation in her voice, demanded: 

“You _weren’t sure which I’d prefer?_ You, Jemma ‘Fitz likes his tea at 87 degrees’ Simmons, and Leo bloody ‘Jemma doesn’t drink caffeine after 6’ Fitz, _weren’t sure which drink I would prefer?”_

Fitz and Jemma frowned at each other. This was clearly about more than coffee and maybe, just maybe, it was what they’d seen coming. 

“We brought marshmallows too?” Fitz suggested, pulling the bag out of the pocket of his coat and holding it out to Daisy. “We just wanted to do something nice. We never get off-base anymore and, well, we noticed you’d been feeling a little down, so…” 

“We have dinner in town planned too,” Jemma added, “and we rented a hotel room with Wi-Fi, and _The Mummy_ and _Indiana Jones_ and _Princess Bride._ And there’s Red Vines and pretzels?” 

Daisy raised her eyebrow, intrigued. 

“And snack cakes?” 

“Only the best,” Fitz confirmed. “Like I said. We wanted to do something special for you. I mean – if you’re still feeling it? We could bugger off if you’d prefer.”  
  
Daisy shook her head and sighed. 

“I’m sorry, guys. I’ve just been feeling a bit – I mean, pretty – left out, lately. You two just seem to have this great thing going and I’m just. Y’know. Sort of _there.”_

She gestured with her hand, trying to describe her feeling without being too dramatic about it, and ended up sighing again.  
  
“It’s just, you two are this great unit, you know? And then here’s me, American, Inhuman, coffee-drinking, dropout me who’s never fit in anywhere. Sometimes it feels like I never will, y’know? This whole coffee-chocolate thing just…made me feel that super hard. I know you were trying to do something nice, it’s just…” 

Jemma shook her head. 

“Daisy. Fitz and I have had – what is it now, twelve years? – to get used to each other’s drink preferences.” 

“And temperature preferences,” Daisy added. “And jokes. And sense of space. And fields of study.” 

Fitz hung his head a little and Jemma pursed her lips. 

“Okay,” she conceded. “So we might have neglected to invite you into our rituals enough too. I’m sorry. We _want_ you to be with us, to be part of us, and we don’t _mean_ to leave you behind, it’s just – for the longest time, we were the only ones like us, Daisy. The youngest. The immigrants. We both moved out of home before we were fifteen. We had to learn how to become adults together. Just us. _Fitz-Simmons._ Sometimes it’s hard to remember to keep the door open.” 

Daisy shrugged. 

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember it’s unlocked,” she said, “and that I could have brought this up weeks ago instead of yelling at your coffee. It was nice of you to think of me in amongst all this supertech, or whatever.” 

“It was hard _not_ to think of you,” Fitz insisted. “Every five seconds it was like ‘Daisy would love that’, ‘Daisy could do that,’-”

“- ‘Daisy probably did that already, with a kettle and a piece of string, while living in a van.’” 

Daisy snorted. 

“You flatter me.” 

“You deserve flattery.” Jemma grinned. “And many, many other things, which shall be lavished upon you for one glorious night.” 

“Mhmmm….that’s an awfully saucy grin for _The Mummy,_ Jemma. Careful. A girl could get Ideas.” Daisy bit down on a marshmallow slowly. It wasn’t the most sensuous of foods, but it would do. “I’ll take the hot chocolate then, my good lady, and let’s get this party started.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide between fluff and smut for part 2 so... why not both?  
> The smut is coming soon (*ba dum tsh*) but for now - fluff!! Enjoy!

Daisy pondered the menu for a long while – not so much pondering the food, of course, as her own feelings about the day. It was not just the sugar from the hot chocolate, or all the lascivious expressions and innuendos Fitz and Jemma were shooting around, that set her heart a-flutter. It was the attention. The gratifying promise of having weeks of self-perpetuating irritation and isolation finally soothed. It was in the way the three of them had fallen into step easily on the way here, dancing around each other to fit on a sidewalk that was not made for three. It was in the perfect restaurant choice, with perfect mood lighting, and even if it smelled a bit too much like fish for Daisy’s liking, the view was as nice as she could have asked for and the rose that somebody had placed on their table – even though it was a table for three – almost brought a tear to her eye. 

It was these things Daisy was pondering as she looked her menu over, and so it was a long while before she noticed that Fitz and Jemma had stopped talking between themselves, and were both looking at her. 

Daisy lowered her menu, and was suddenly inspired.

“I want you to order for me.” 

They shared a glance. 

“But…” Fitz began.

“You just said we don’t know how to pick for you,” Jemma pointed out. 

“There was a whole thing,” Fitz added. “With yelling.” 

Daisy pressed her lips together, still not quite ready to make jokes about it, but she rapped her nails against the laminate with determination.

“That’s the point,” she explained. “You guys don’t know how to order for me because you don’t know how my brain works. Now, diner food and breakfast, that’s easy. Dinner? At a fancy restaurant? That’s next level. Welcome to the inner sanctum.” 

Fitz leaned in. Jemma sat up straighter.

“I feel like I should be taking notes,” she murmured, and Daisy smirked. 

“Now, I only thought of this just now,” Daisy said, “so I’m going to just start listing random facts about my food preferences and see what you come up with. Your time starts… now.” 

Fitz and Jemma scrambled for their menus as Daisy pondered. 

“Well, we’re in an Italian restaurant, so…”

“Do we get to ask you things?” Jemma wondered. “Like 20 questions?”

“I like pizza, I like pasta,” Daisy was already saying. “Whatever else they have is probably fine too. None of that English stuff though, fish and chips or whatever. We’re at an Italian restaurant, I want something Italian.” 

“Does that also apply if we go to an Asian fusion restaurant that’s pretending to be a Japanese restaurant?” Fitz wondered. 

“We’ll get to that when we get to that. I’m hungry, keep going.” Daisy waved him off, and began listing facts as fast as she could think of them. “I don’t like mussels, I like prawns, I like lemon, I like olives but only in stuff. If I’m having fancy pizza I like it proper fancy like chicken or something, not the twenty-dollar version of something I could get down the street. I prefer red sauce to white sauce. I don’t really like wine unless it’s sweet. I’d prefer cocktails. I’m running out of things to say, I haven’t read this menu fast enough.” 

“Which meats?” Jemma’s eyes were still intently searching the menu, as if she was being timed. “Veal? Lamb? Pork?” 

“Veal no, lamb yes, pork’s only for Asian food unless it’s bacon, bacon can be anything, beef is good, seafood is good except mussels. I do like to have one serve of meat a day, I tend to prefer chicken in most cases because they eat less and if we’re being honest I don’t feel as bad about killing them.” 

“Time!” Fitz called, and slapped his menu down victoriously. Jemma spluttered. Daisy raised an eyebrow, impressed and more alluringly curious than she had anticipated. 

“So, Fitz thinks he’s got something,” she mused. “Jemma? You want to lock in your choice? You can have a guess each, that’s pretty good. Wow, I’ve never mapped out my food preferences like that. Do you think they change, too? Like, based on the weather?” 

“I thought you said you were hungry,” Jemma pointed out. 

“I am, but that was fun.” Daisy grinned. “Now, what have you got for me?” 

“I was thinking,” Jemma said, “the salmon? You said you liked seafood and lemon, and this one is also served with potatoes, which I know you like, and it wouldn’t be too heavy so you could enjoy more dessert later or even a cocktail. Sex on the Beach, perhaps.” 

“Interesting.” Daisy nodded diplomatically. “Fitz. State your case?”

“Moroccan chicken pizza. It’s – well, it’s pizza. It’s chicken. It also has chorizo on it, which I’m pretty sure you like.”

“I do.” Daisy nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry Jem, but I think I’ve gotta go with door number two. Not as well argued, admittedly, but I am a sucker for chorizo.” 

“Well fought.” Fitz offered his hand to Jemma to shake it in condolence, and she rolled her eyes as she did so.

“Well in that case,” Jemma recommended, “I think mojitos would be better suited. Offset the spice.” 

“Indeed,” Daisy agreed. “Although, don’t let me order more than one. I want to properly enjoy this night you guys have planned for me.” 

- 

Conversation over dinner was, while not as heated as the race of Daisy’s game, lively and full of laughter. Weeks of mismatched schedules resulted in stories that had until now been left unheard, or only shared with one party. (The latter were re-enacted - in between arguments – to the third.) The pain and isolation felt from missing each other all the time was soothed as all three diners wholeheartedly seized the opportunity to gush, recount, and build each other up. By the time they were walking the streets afterward, ice creams in hand, Daisy had a wide grin on her face. 

“Thank you so much for tonight, guys,” she said. “It has been. _So_ much fun. Honestly, I feel so much better now. And, perfect ice cream ordering from both of you. I don’t know what that says about my eating habits but maybe that’s something _not_ to take too many notes on.” 

Jemma snorted as Fitz pushed the door to their hotel lobby open and they all filed in after each other. 

“Here, try mine,” Fitz offered. 

“Really? Here.” Daisy swapped spoons with Fitz and then with Jemma and they bickered and shared and passed to each other, trying different combinations as the elevator took them up and laughing about it all the way down the hall to their room. As promised, the Red Vines and pretzels were set out on the bed, and the movies Jemma had mentioned, and they put on _The Mummy_ but talked most of the way through it. Jemma cuddled into Daisy’s lap, and Fitz began to massage Daisy’s shoulders, and she felt so wrapped up in love it was like the flavour she had chosen – Cherry Chocolate Heart – come to life.

“I love you guys,” she purred, leaning back into Fitz’s arms. 

“I love you too,” Fitz and Jemma each replied, and this time it didn’t feel like second place, or a token. This time they said it while wrapped around her, and after having showered attention on her all day, and while they didn’t have anywhere else to be. This time, Daisy really felt it. She smiled and let her eyes drift shut, and surrendered to the bliss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stage 3 of the evening: Daisy gets an erotic massage.
> 
> Heavy sexual/sensual references. Rated M.

She must have drifted off, Daisy realised a few moments later, as she woke up to Fitz prodding her gently in the back, where he’d previously been massaging. She opened her eyes. 

“Hm?”

Jemma beamed down at her. 

“Daisy,” she offered. “We actually have one more stage planned for this evening. We could put a pin in it if you’d prefer and just go off to bed, but well, when else are we going to get an opportunity like this?” 

Jemma raised an eyebrow in more of a suggestion than an offer, and Daisy mimicked her expression, perking up.  
  
“Does this stage involve… _shenanigans?”_  

“Perhaps,” Jemma replied cryptically. 

 _“Naked_ shenanigans?” Daisy pressed. Jemma couldn’t contain her excitement any longer and wriggled with glee, and Daisy’s confident smirk broadened. She hauled herself off Fitz’s lap with determination, already looking around for signs of what they might be planning. 

“Excellent,” Fitz agreed, getting up after her. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, go into the bathroom, take off your clothes and wait there until we call for you.” 

Daisy pursed her lips, impressed by Fitz’s forthrightness. Jemma gestured to the door of the ensuite, and Daisy curtseyed.

“Yes ma’am, yes sir,” she teased, bobbing her head at each of them. Already her heart was accelerating. They had promised to spend the night lavishing their attentions on her and they could be so _very_ satisfying when they wanted to be. All the tingling nerves that had yearned for this were cheering and crying out in anguish that they would be asked to wait a few more minutes. Daisy took them to the bathroom, and danced around a little, peeling her clothes off piece by piece so she wouldn’t lose her mind waiting in the nude. 

The room gradually warmed around her, so that she eventually stopped shivering and even feeling the need to hug herself as she paced the bathroom amiably, stripped down to just her underpants. The warmth was an intriguing signal. Was it to keep Fitz and Jemma comfortable while they focused their heat on her? Or was Daisy in for some games first? 

She whined to herself, thinking about it. She wanted fun, but not too much fun. She wanted contact and completion, _mind-blowing_ completion, and then she wanted to fall asleep the most blissful and smug person on the planet. Preferably, wrapped in the second and third most blissful and smug people. What could they possibly be planning out there?

Just as Daisy was seized by the urge to throw the door open and ruin the surprise, Jemma knocked from the outside. 

“Are you indecent?” she checked. Daisy rolled her eyes. No way Jemma hadn’t laughed at that for half an hour after making that up. 

“Yes, perfectly indecent,” Daisy promised, and then pulled off her underwear for good measure. They had requested complete nudity, after all. 

“Good,” Jemma said. “Now, come on out.” 

Daisy took a deep breath and stepped back into the bedroom. In her absence, FitzSimmons had turned the lights off and set up soft blue-green glowlights and candles. It smelt like a tropical holiday; like frangipanis and coconut and shea. On the bed, there was a towel set out with one cushion near the end and one, Daisy estimated, where her hips would go. If she weren’t so well trained her knees might have shuddered as the whole set-up screamed, _sex._  

“Good evening, Daisy,” Fitz greeted, bowing a little and kissing her hand, with all the dignity of a night at the opera – and then a less dignified, but no less appreciated moment taken to ogle her from the ground up. He smiled. “Welcome to tonight’s third activity. Now, Jemma and I have already talked about it and if you want to keep it PG, just say the word, but if not…” 

“Not, please,” Daisy requested. Part of her wanted to climb on up there, open her legs and let them get to work, but the elaborate set-up and the strange, role-play-esque way they moved around her had her as intrigued as she was aroused. It would be fun to let this play out. 

“Excellent,” Jemma agreed. “Well, Miss Daisy, if you would please make yourself comfortable up on the bed…” 

“Which way?” Daisy asked. “Face up or face down?” 

“Whichever you would prefer. We can work with either.” 

Daisy watched Jemma’s expression, which remained studiously polite in her role as cosmetologist-slash-masseuse. It was the calmness itself that gave it away. The desire. The challenge.

Challenged in return, Daisy made a point of stretching her legs and hips and breasts as she set herself up, face down with her hips propped up on the back cushion and her legs loosely parted. It was to be an _erotic_ massage, after all. And she was glad to have the covers to lean into, to muffle her moan as warm hands coated in warm oil met her bare skin at last. 

It was Fitz; the hands were too big and firm and too warm to be Jemma’s. In fact, Jemma was keeping her hands well away, while with movements that steadily rolled between firm and lighter, between lingering and moving on, Fitz worked Daisy over. Her breath quickened as Fitz moved around her back, down to her ticklish sides and up again, and up to her shoulders until Daisy demanded _down,_ and he seemed to get the message, because he moved downward again, and kept moving down, until he was rubbing the oil over her bare buttocks. His touch became longer, slower, more teasing, as if he could feel the way her flesh tingled in its wake. Maybe he could; his own hands trembled just a little, just occasionally as he worked, and Daisy was losing the ability to tell which of the heavy breaths were hers or Fitz’s or Jemma’s.

And then Daisy felt another set of hands on her, where Fitz had started. She smiled, and sighed into the covers, and she could imagine the smug look on Jemma’s face, knowing that sound meant that she had been anticipated. 

“Sorry, love,” Jemma crooned. “I took a little longer to warm up these monstrous icicles, that’s all. But from the looks of you, Fitz has it covered.” 

Jemma, who was standing by Daisy’s head, took a deep breath as she looked over the body that was laid out before her. It was surprisingly rare that she got a chance to properly admire Daisy’s well-toned back muscles, sans clothing. She had enjoyed running her hands over those rippling shoulders many a time, of course, but to _see_ the way that Daisy began to twitch and writhe under their hands was a whole new level of fulfilling. 

And meanwhile, if Fitz was trembling, it was out of his own desire, not hesitation; that much was clear as his fingers explored the extra areas held within their reach by the cushion that raised Daisy’s hips. She tried her best to keep herself arranged so that he could reach, but the floods of pleasure coursing through her made it hard to stay in any one position. This had been a long time coming, and with each pass of Fitz’s fingers over and around her clit, Daisy was starting to gasp. When Jemma leaned over and let her own hair and breasts brush against Daisy’s back as she kissed her shoulders, Daisy moaned aloud. 

“Now, we have two options,” Jemma whispered, her lips and hair and breasts ghosting over Daisy’s flesh as Fitz slid his fingers inside and Daisy clutched at the sheets, her breath hitching. “We can turn you over and I can finish you off, or Fitz can do it this time and when you’re ready, I can get us started again. Which would you prefer?” 

 _Finish me._ Daisy couldn’t think of anything better than falling apart in their hands, over and over until it was hard to recollect what the rest of the world must be like. There was only the steamy warmth of Jemma leaving no part of her untouched, and Fitz, playing with the edges of her desire, maintaining a delicate balance as he waited for her to make her decision before he brought her over. In no place to find the words, Daisy let her hips seek out his fingers instead, and he obliged. Jemma stepped back, biting her lip as she watched Daisy’s release ripple through her. Daisy’s breath caught, and then Fitz’s as he felt it too, and he pulled his fingers out and rubbed her gently, slowly through it as her body shook with pleasure.

“There’s no rush,” he assured Daisy, eking out her aftershocks as long as he could, and relishing the way her breath came in shudders and gasps. “We’ve got all night. And, if you haven’t noticed by now, Jemma and I are very competitive, which is probably going to work out in your favour. Don’t you think?”


End file.
